


the carpal tunnel of love (aka merry christmas, neal tiemann)

by sidnihoudini



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-22
Updated: 2008-12-22
Packaged: 2017-11-26 03:36:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/646121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidnihoudini/pseuds/sidnihoudini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You gotta teach me how to be a grown up," Cook tells him, eyes going back to the TV screen.</p><p>David laughs and closes his laptop mid-chime, setting it on the floor at his feet.</p><p>"It's kind of boring," He confides, as Cook is wrapping his arms around David's middle. "Punching someone in the eye is probably much more exciting."</p>
            </blockquote>





	the carpal tunnel of love (aka merry christmas, neal tiemann)

"I don't think Neal likes me very much," David says one day, and that's where it starts.

 

.

 

"Dave, yo, we're leaving, hustle," Andy says, pushing Cook's hotel room door open with a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth.

Cook is packed up and ready to go. Cook is also falling asleep on the couch with both boots propped up on the coffee table.

"Jesus," Andy sighs, standing there in the foyer, toothbrush vibrating against the inside of his cheek. He ends up spitting in Cook's coffee cup, which is cold anyways and dangerously angled to spill across Cook's crotch, and then shaking his buddy awake.

Cook wakes up with a start and has to blink his eyes before he even realizes where he is.

"Hey," Andy says, a little softer than before. "We gotta go."

 

.

 

Cook is exhausted, this much is the truth. Cook is exhausted and still getting over a pretty mean cold, can't ever find enough time in the day to damn well consume something that isn't caffeinated or blended to perfection, and most of all, Cook is missing his apartment. And most of the things in his apartment, namely his wide screen television, his king size bed, his own shower, and the guy who he happens to share all of these three things with.

They're in New York for the last few days of November, and so far Cook has found himself caught up in a veritable hurricane of acoustic sets, radio bumpers, and benefit concert line-ups that include neither the famous nor the talented. And, sure. Cook gets that there's a game plan at the end of all of this, Cook's a pretty smart thing, he gets a lot of things. But one guy can only be stretched so thin before getting a little wound up.

His management promised him a four day vacation if he can get through the next three weeks. Thanks, guys.

"Wanna go one more round?" Neal calls over from where he's standing at the bar, leaving Cook to fall asleep in their booth in peace.

Cook raises his eyebrows and makes the universal sign for 'why not?' as he pulls his cell phone out.

man there are some days when you just wanna sit down for 2 mins, huh. xx, he texts, setting his phone down against the sticky table just as Neal comes back with their beers.

"Free popcorn for all," He announces, managing to dump a bucket of salty yellow popcorn down onto the center of the table without spilling the four beers he's hugging against his chest. For Cook, Neal is a real talent. He smirks down at where Cook is leaning against the booth, and wrangles two beers away for Cook to take as he says, "For my buddy."

Cook smiles a little, leaning against one hand and extending the other to take accept both drinks from him. He's wedged in-between Andy and someone Andy met all of twenty minutes ago, which means he's been stuck in the middle of a touch and go conversation about the downfall of the bass driven chorus line for the better part of too long.

His phone vibrates against the table top just as he's popping his beer open with the ring around his middle finger.

Id like more than 2 minutes but whatever makes u happy! haha.

"Who's that?" Neal asks, reaching for a handful of popcorn as he eyes Cook's weary smile over the haze of their table.

Cook glances up from the blue screen of his cellphone with a little smile on his face as he brings the beer up to his mouth.

"Archie," He says, just before he takes a swig.

 

.

 

When it got to be more of a countdown to his 18th birthday than a countdown since his 17th and he and David had started hooking up for real, Cook had all these deluded fantasies of introducing David to all of his buddies, after the whole Idol thing had run its course. They'd all love him, of course. Think he was just awesome and funny and banter with him while Cook watched with a dumb smile on his face, which, had up until then at least, been par for the course.

In reality, after doing the rounds at what ended up being an ill fated Halloween party, there had been a general consensus among the David Cook sharing circle. Apparently all of the girls thought he was endearing enough, cute in a disarming way, which Cook thought was alright. David generally had that effect on girls over the age of thirteen. His casual guy friends didn't have an opinion of him, which Cook had also expected.

But the core of his social life, his best buddies and even his brother, liked him. In a casual; sure, confident you'll grow out of him like an ill fitting pair of pants way. They didn't dislike him, really, but, as one of Cook's more articulate friends had put it, it seemed like the two of them related to each other about as well as two cold starfish. They didn't.

Cook didn't get that at all, but. Whatever. His mind was on other things, like the fact that it was Neal who had all the baggage where David was concerned, something that came outta left field for Cook. Neal liked anybody, as long as they weren't a certified douchebag, and sometimes, even then...

Neal was a pretty easy going guy. Liked a girl and a cigarette and a beer and guitar, sometimes a Queens of the Stone Age record spinning. He liked going to seedy bars and getting drunk enough to bush dive at the nearest city park, and carving pumpkins on Halloween. And that was all well and cool, except how he and Cook had maybe banged a couple of times in the not too distant past.

Which Cook feels he probably should have thought more about before blindsiding him with a seventeen (almost eighteen) year old boyfriend. Twink, Cook is pretty sure Neal had referred to him as, once.

And, yeah. Hello, America's newest sore spot. Neal, meet David Archuleta. Population: you.

 

.

 

no kidding huh! man do i ever miss you tho. ill call you when i get back to my hotel. xxxx.

 

.

 

He ends up a little more drunk than he was originally anticipating to be, and it's because of this that he calls David when he's face down on his hotel mattress with the spins.

"Oh, hey," David greets, sounding sleepy but decidedly alive.

It's in this moment that Cook realizes he misses him maybe more than anything.

"Good to hear your voice," Cook says, quietly. Eyes closed. His tongue is thick and clumsy from the beer, but there were a lot of years spent sneaking past his parents after having one too many shots, and he's a time honored pro. "Sorry it's so late."

David laughs quietly and Cook hears an overhead light click on. "You're kind of popular right now, but I don't think you can control the time," He says.

"You know what I mean." Cook is kind of petulant when he's drunk. And grabby, but that's another story altogether.

Although he sounds more guarded than he did before, Cook knows there's no real hesitancy in David's voice as he asks, "You're okay, right? You kinda, uh, sound..."

"I'm drunk," Cook explains sagely, opening his eyes. It's not a very good idea, because the entire floor spins and he almost drops his phone off the side of the mattress. "Ugh, god. And lonely, but that's another story."

David doesn't really say anything for a long time, until Cook is laying there miserably trying to pinch the drunk out of the bridge of his nose and he says, "Lonely isn't another story when you're talking to me."

Rolling over onto his back, one of Cook's clumsy, very uncoordinated hand comes up to brush the hair off of his forehead. He ends up accidentally smacking himself in the face instead, and frowns.

"When'd you get so smart," Cook sighs, finally managing to push the hair away. He carefully stretches both legs out and wonders if he should bother calling room service for a hamburger. That had been his mantra to get out of the taxi, up the elevator, and into his room. Salty food does him in every time.

David laughs again, that quiet laugh he does when he's talking to Cook and only Cook and doesn't want anyone else to hear.

"I'm almost eighteen, Cook," He sighs, voice dry. "I guess age does come with wisdom."

 

.

 

The next morning Cook is standing in the hotel lobby with a black coffee in one hand and a guitar case in the other.

"You look like shit, man," Andy tells him, fondly. He eyes the dark circles hanging out under Cook's eyes. "Rough morning?"

Cook blinks a few times, nudges the sunglasses down off of his forehead, and says, "Rough last two months."

 

.

 

U feeling o.k. this morning? u were kinda out of it last night haha.

 

.

 

Cook phones his mom in-between radio interviews, and plays a twenty minute acoustic set with Neal for a local TV station. It's all in good fun, they even play a Christmas song or two, and Cook is generally in good spirits during the shuttle from the studio to the venue they've got a benefit concert at that night.

It's just him and Neal, shoulder to shoulder in the middle seat, with all the other guys meeting them there straight from the hotel.

"Archie doesn't think you like him," Cook says, when they're at a red light and a small population is crossing the intersection in front of them.

Neal runs his tongue over the ring in his lip and doesn't even try to look Cook in the eye as he shifts a little and says, "Yeah, well."

Cook frowns and stares out of his window instead.

 

.

 

oh yeah i'm fine, nothing a time honored pro can't handle. feel like a million bucks. xxxxxo.

 

.

 

Alright, so he and Neal fucked more than a few times. Everyone growing up knew Cook was a two beer queer, and he'd make out with anyone if he had the time.

So he and Neal weren't exclusively boyfriends, or whatever. They fooled around, learned a few things, accidentally broke each other's hearts, like all good bi boys did. They were fine together but there were about three thousand times better off as friends, and Cook thought that they both knew that.

Which is why the whole David-hate thing Neal was harboring was kind of confusing, especially when Cook knew Neal hadn't given David half a damn chance.

"He's like, three apples tall," Was the first thing that Neal had ever, ever said about him, when Cook'd shown him a pixelated photo of David on his phone just a little while after the whole Idol thing started and they'd made it past the Hollywood round.

Cook had smiled a little at the time, pretty endeared with the kid, just not in his pants yet. He'd elbowed Neal a little in the side affectionately.

"That's enough eighties references for one day," Cook snickered, shaking his head. He'd looked at the picture one more time for himself before putting his phone away, Neal caught it and wouldn't hear anything else even if Cook tried to tell him different.

Neal had kind of laughed and shrugged, they were hanging out and Cook was on his way to being a star, life was good.

And that had been, you know. Six months ago, or whatever.

These days time went by too quickly to count.

 

.

 

They see each other for all of a half a second at the Macy's Day Parade, and even then it's only a fleeting glimpse. Cook barely gets one hand on David's shoulder before both sets of handlers are pulling them in two different directions, and Cook's being mic-ed up as David walks right into another interview.

And that's how it is, mostly, for the first two weeks of December, at least. Kind of sort of maybe sometimes walking in the same circles, but just missing each other every single time.

 

.

 

"Christmas party, bon voyage party, thanks for the memories party, whatever you wanna call it, I'm having it," Andy tells them all, on the last day before the entire crew breaks for winter holidays. Everyone is hanging around LA for twenty four hours, trying to get their shit together before heading home. From inside the car, even as the door is closing, Andy manages to yell out, "I'll text directions, make sure you bitches are all there!"

 

.

 

First thing Cook does upon arriving back to his place in the Palisades is to dead drop right into his bed and sleep half the day off, easily. It's sweet and deserved and he doesn't wake up until well after two in the afternoon.

So, obviously the next order of business is to track his not so significant other down.

"Please tell me your set didn't get extended into next year," Cook says, when David picks up on the fourth ring.

David's laughing, and Cook can hear the general noises of airport lobby mayhem somewhere behind him. "Nah, no way! I'm actually just getting on my flight now!"

"Oh jesus, that is the best news I've heard in a while," Cook sighs, eyes closing. He brings one of his arms up to rest behind his head. "What time do you land?"

David's a little out of breath, probably running late. "Like, five thirty maybe? It's snowing here, it's pretty cool."

"I miss snow," Cook says, thoughtfully. He opens his eyes to stare at the ceiling and ask, "Call me when you land?"

David laughs again and Cook hears an announcement come over the speakers in the background. "Of course, Cook, c'mon."

"Alright, well," Cook grins and elbows himself up on the bed. "I'll see you soon."

He sounds a little distracted but there's still a smile in his voice as he quietly replies, "Duh. I'll see you soon."

"Seeya sweetheart," Cook sighs dramatically, grinning from ear to ear when David laughs at his stupidity and promptly hangs up on him.

 

.

 

1638 n.las palmas, 9:30ish. Bring yr santa hats*  
*do not actually bring a stanta hat.

 

.

 

Cook's doing up the fly on his jeans when his phone skitters across the bathroom counter and he has to catch it before it falls right into the trash.

"Hello?" He answers, tucking the phone under his chin so he can finish doing up the buckle on his belt.

Neal's laughing and halfway through saying something to somebody else when he cuts himself off and says instead, "Greetings!"

"Hey," Cook laughs, wiping his hand off on the thigh of his jeans. Random bathroom water. "It's been, what. Twenty five years since we last spoke."

Snickering, Neal says, "Fifty thousand, actually."

"That's almost a decade, isn't it?" Cook smirks, standing in front of the sink, messing with his hair in the mirror. He should probably shower before doing anything else. "What's up?"

Neal sneezes right into the phone and Cook laughs to himself in the mirror. "Sorry. Are you going to this thing at Les Deux tonight?"

"Yeah," Cook answers, nodding. He picks something weird out of his hair and snorts. "Why, are you ditching?"

Laughing, Neal replies, "You're a douchebag. No, I'm not ditching, I want to know if you can come pick me up. I'm automobile-less right now."

"What, like a date?" Cook asks, and he's joking, but as soon as it's out of his mouth he wishes he hadn't said it.

Neal snorts, and Cook must be getting too used to David cause there isn't a trace of awkward silence before he answers, "Obviously. I'll bang a cab driver too, if it means I won't have to pay forty bucks out the ass."

"Nice," Cook laughs, starting to unbuckle his belt one-handed again. He looks over his shoulder at the shower, and unzips the fly of his jeans. "Well, Archie's plane lands at five thirty, so I can probably pencil you into my busy schedule for, what. Nine?"

Even though Cook can tell he's a little surprised, he gives his buddy props for a speedy recovery.

"Yeah, man," Neal agrees, voice only sounding a little stilted. "Wanna bring me some roses, too?"

Cook smirks and shakes his head, says, "Digging yourself deeper, man."

"What?" Neal asks, starting to laugh just as Cook's pants hit the floor and he kicks them the rest of the way off. "It's a nice gesture is all."

Still smiling faintly, Cook shakes his head and scratches at the back of his ear, saying, "Dude, seriously, promise me you'll play nice?"

"Bring me the roses," Neal replies, without actually responding to what Cook said.

Neal's real good at stuff like that.

"See you at nine, man," Cook says instead, fingers scratching over his belly. In terms of dude, undressing while on the phone does not break the code. Cook's pretty sure it doesn't, at least.

Still snickering, Neal replies, "Yeah, yeah. Nine all around."

 

.

 

hi! we just landed+traffic is kinda bad but i should get there sooon! haha.

 

.

 

David was maybe five or six years old when his mom took him to the mall to meet Santa, sitting among all of the elves with their pointy felt shoes and other kids with cold runny noses.

"When you get up there," She'd said, bent down on both knees in front of him, adjusting his little red tie. She flattened his shirt and looked him right in the eye. "Tell him exactly what you want for Christmas. It doesn't matter how big or small it is, okay?"

He'd nodded and wiped his nose with the back of his hand, and then she'd wiped his nose and smoothed his hair down even as she was directing him over to one of Santa's helpers.

The walk down the thin carpet was nerve wracking, and David's cheeks were bright red by the time he got to the overwhelming throne Santa was sitting on. He looked huge from David's perspective, impossibly cheerful, and was sitting beside the most gigantic tub of candy canes that David had ever seen.

"What's your name?" Santa asked him, as one of the elves picked him up by the waist and sat him on Santa's knee.

David was completely tongue tied at first, right up until Santa reached for one of the candy canes, and David realized that he might lose his chance to make a request if he didn't hurry up and say something.

"David," He'd finally managed, voice small and unsure.

Santa smiled at him, faded teeth, and handed the candy cane over as he patted David's shoulder. "And what would you like for Christmas this year, David?"

"Um, well," David looked at the candy cane in his hand, at the elf lingering next to Santa's chair, and then at his mom, standing far away, on the other side of the white picket fence that surrounded Santa's land. She was grinning at him with both of her hands clasped to her chest, nodding a little bit.

Santa shifted around and one of the elves started inching in, coming closer, so David shook his head and tried to say, "I want," but couldn't get the rest of the words out.

"How about another candy cane?" The elf asked him, one arm reached out, trying to lure David out of Santa's lap and to the exit.

David shook his head and held his own candy cane so close to his chest it almost cracked. He looked up at Santa with wide eyes and tried to sit up a little more, reaching one arm up to pull himself against Santa's shoulder, so he could whisper exactly what he wanted into Santa's beard. He didn't want his mom to hear him.

"I want a best friend for Christmas," David whispered, fingers digging into Santa's shoulder accidentally. "I want him to be a boy, and when I grow up, I want to marry him. Like my mom married my dad."

And, despite the shocked look on Santa's makeup reddened face, that had been David at five, maybe even six years old.

 

.

 

The suspense is killing me peanut! xxx.

 

.

 

The front door swings open the better part of an hour later and David shuffles through, loaded down with a suitcase in each hand, and a backpack slung over his shoulder.

"Cook," David laughs, when Cook charges at him and almost knocks them both back through the door and out onto the stoop outside. "Ahh, my arm's gonna break, wait!"

Cook shakes his head, grinning wide enough that he feels like hes gonna crack right down the middle, split after all these days by himself.

 

.

 

More times than he'd like to readily admit, Cook's been told that they're pretty nauseating together. Not in a way that makes him feel like a balding pedophile, they were apparently just... once his road manager had called it 'grossly endearing.'

"Put some pants on," Cook says, coming out of the bathroom with a toothbrush hanging out the side of his mouth.

So maybe time got away from him a little bit.

"Huh? Why?" David's laying on the bed wearing a t-shirt and a pair of underwear, trying to change the ringtone on his cell.

Cook tries to smile nicely as he picks up David's jeans from the floor and swings them over towards the bed. One leg lands on the mattress, the other cascading across the floor.

"There's this wrap party thing tonight," He explains, standing at the foot of the bed with what his first girlfriend had affectionately referred to as 'sex hair' as his bottom lip drips toothpaste. "And we're going?"

David looks dubious over the top of his phone, but nods anyways, half rolling out of bed.

 

.

 

"Hey, sorry," Cook says, calling Neal as soon as he gets his seat belt buckled. "We're on our way now, be there in twenty."

 

.

 

Les Deux wasn't a place Cook liked to frequent, but it served its purpose, and as far as he knew, everything was on the house tonight, anyway.

"Where is... is that him?" Cook asks, bending low over the steering wheel to study the sidewalk in front of them.

Neal is standing there with his phone in hand, looking like he's mid-text with a cigarette hanging from his bottom lip as he looks up and into the high beams of Cook's car. Cook honks lightly, like Neal couldn't see him from a fucking mile away with his flashy rims and black tinted windows, and pulls up to the curb.

Flicking his cigarette against the ground, Neal affectionately fingers Cook through the rear view window before cracking the side door open to haul himself up into the back seat.

"Charming as ever," Cook greets, half-smiling at Neal through the rear view mirror.

David turns a little in his seat and smiles a little, saying, "Hey."

"What's up," Neal says to neither of them in particular, as Cook pulls away from the curb. Neal glances around the interior of the car; David goes back to staring out the passenger side window. "I see you're still driving Easy's wet dream, nice going."

Laughing, David glances over his shoulder as he switches lanes and pulls out into the traffic leading them downtown.

"Somebody has to, I guess," He smirks, glancing over at David first and then looking at Neal in the rear view again. David's sitting quietly, but smiles at Cook when he glances over. Neal's another story, sitting on Cook's custom made, heated leather seats with both eyes trained out the window.

 

.

 

If Cook had to pin it down to one thing, it was David's complete self awareness that had originally attracted him.

He'd thought about it a decent amount, especially after all the second guessing from his friends. What did he want with a seventeen year old anyways, life was life, it wasn't a queer drama on a semi-censored cable channel. Cook had never met a teenager that bumbled around more than David did. He had cousins, and he'd been a teenage boy himself, he knew how that shit worked. Usually it was hard and willing to bone anything that sat still long enough.

Except, when it came down to it, Cook realized that David was just driven. Driven in a scary, kind of stilted way, but driven none the less. But when it was all over, and it was just the two of them sitting hip to hip on the curb outside that night's venue, David was well spoken and much learned, and impressed Cook way more than the recent circles of people surrounding him had.

Intelligence was something that won Cook over in a person every single time, hook, line and sinker. He was a sucker for big words, and a bigger dick was just the icing on the cake as far as he was concerned.

"You know what," Cook had said one of those times, when it had only been the two of them sitting in that night's wardrobe, resting outside in the damp summer air with all of an inch between them on the pavement. He'd leaned over and bumped the roundest parts of their shoulders together. "You're pretty alright, Archuleta."

David had laughed a little, and glanced over at Cook, resting the side of his head against the tops of his knees.

"Well. You too, I guess," He'd replied, in that rest assured way of his, smiling a little wider when Cook broke out into that loud, surprised laughter he liked to keep around as ammunition for boys just like David Archuleta.

 

.

 

"Hey, you're late!" Jennie says, when they're all of two steps away from the table, and Cook is still kind of winded from running across the parking lot.

He puts on his best forgive-me-please smile, and says, "I know. But, I brought a present," and David looks about as mortified as ever when Cook pulls him out from where he'd been following close behind during their three man jaunt across the club.

"Hi," David manages to say, waving one hand awkwardly.

Neal snorts a short laugh from where he had been following behind the pair of them, and breaks away to head around the table and grab whatever is left of a decent spot.

"Introductions," Cook announces, wrapping one arm around David's shoulders, tugging him closer by the side of the neck. He laughs and staggers to the side a little, landing with his forehead against the side of Cook's chest. "Andy, Jennie, Kyle, Alexis, Neal, and Joey. Meet Archie. Archie, everyone."

David nods another hello to them all, and then Kyle is kicking out two chairs from his side of the table for them to sit on.

"So what's good," Cook asks, one hand still lingering on David's shoulder as he reaches for the drink menu in the middle of the table.

About everyone has their own opinion, and Cook can't help but dissolve into confused laughter as he flips through the menu, glancing up at everyones wordy recommendations between each page.

David's laughing beside him, too, looking about as confused as Cook feels, and for one hot bursting moment in his chest, Cook feels so red-faced happy it's embarrassing.

 

.

 

Like any good Christmas party, they all drink a little too much booze and get a little too loud. Even David manages to loosen up a little; Cook talks him into taking one whole sip of the bright pink cocktail some chick at the bar bought him, and makes faces all over the place as he swallows, nose wrinkled up and Cook just about dying laughing beside him.

Shit is all well and dandy until they're leaving, and then. Y'know. Neal gets a sharp fist in the eye, courtesy of one David Cook himself.

 

.

 

"See you in the new year, man," Cook had said fondly, wrapping one arm around Kyle's shoulders to pull him into a half-hug. In reality they were gonna see each other a lot sooner than that, but that was the kind of shit you said during holiday get-togethers, and Cook was feeling all fuzzy inside from the vodka slimes he'd consumed, anyways.

Kyle was laughing, a little tipsy himself, and even leaned over to give David an awkward half-hug, too, which Cook belly laughed at when he saw the wide eyes David shot him over the curve of Kyle's shoulder, completely stunned into receiving any kind of affection from the guy that he'd had no choice other than to grasp back.

"Take it easy," Kyle told the both of them, before turning around to pull Andy into much of the same hug.

And then Cook was laughing and resting one arm around David's shoulders, the both of them grinning at each other like fools, Cook bleary eyed with excitement at the prospect of an entire week's worth of laying on his ass and drinking spiked egg nog in front of the TV, which would hopefully be playing a Charlie Brown Christmas. Though he was feeling all giving and shit, so he could settle for watching Frosty again, only this time in hi-def.

"You're drunk," David told him, smiling a little because whether he actually got the whole concept of getting wasted and acting like a total jackass, Cook was an undeniably endearing drunk. "And heavy, dang it Cook, you're crushing me."

Cook laughed but also tried to shift that majority of his weight back to his feet, shaking his head as Jennie came out of nowhere and gave him a half-hug, smiling at David in the process.

"Gimme a call if you want those DVDs," She said, pulling away, and David nodded and smiled, feeling hopelessly hooked into Cook's left side.

Neal had been in the middle of a particularly quiet conversation with Joey that was laced with loud laughter as he smoked his cigarette, standing all of a foot away from Cook on the curb, when he'd finished whatever he'd been talking about by saying, "...hanging out with Dave and his mouth breather."

"You son of a bitch," Cook snapped, and even Neal looked a little surprised he'd been caught when Cook glared over Jennie's shoulder with sharp eyes.

Laughing uncomfortably, Neal spoke with the cigarette still in his mouth as he tried to say, "It's a joke, man."

"C'mon, Cook. Don't," David sighed, fingers tugging at the side of Cook's jacket. He could feel the heat radiating through the thin fabric, and frowned when he realized Cook wasn't moving, stuck like rubber cement to the ashy sidewalk.

Everyone was as quiet as a west coast funeral as Cook said, "I get that you're jilted and shit, but knock it the fuck off."

"Jilted?" Neal laughed suddenly, huffing smoke out his nose as he snorted mid-inhale.

Cook was doing a knock out job at completely ignoring David trying to acquiesce him back to the parking lot as he said, "Yeah jilted."

"Alright, look," Andy was saying then, trying to step in-between the western style stare down the two of them had stupidly locked themselves in. "We'll drive Neal home, Dave, man, go get some sleep, and -- "

"What the fuck would I be jilted about?" Neal bitched, interrupting with his voice crystal clear over the sound of cars speeding past them. "I'm not jealous of you banging a fetus."

Cook lunged across the sidewalk and clocked his best friend square in the eye before anyone had a chance to move. And, Neal, staggering backwards with one hand on his eye and a still lit cigarette rolling across the pavement, watched as all of the guys jumped to hold Cook back.

The whole time David had stood among the chaos watching, stunned.

 

.

 

"You dumb fuck," Kyle snaps at him, during the drive back to Cook's place, with David quiet in the passenger seat and Cook in the back, still hot around the collar.

Cook shook his head and rested his face in both hands, but all that he could hear was Neal's stilted response, and the sound of his fist cracking against Neal's eye.

 

.

 

"You call him peanut?" Neal had asked him once, disgust evident in the way he held his mouth crooked.

Cook had been laughing, caught red handed and kind of embarrassed, just not enough to be able to be a jerk about it.

"Don't listen to my phone calls, man, and you wouldn't hear it," Cook snickered, settling back into his seat.

Neal looked all kinds of confused as he thought it over, fingers strumming over the strings on his guitar.

"So what are you called, then?" He asked, finally, sounding more curious than Cook knew he'd like to let on.

Cook was laughing the whole time he said it, but managed to answer, "Toast."

 

.

 

Alright, so he's still a little buzzed when he says it. But, alternatively, he's also sitting there with a bottle of water in one hand, watching the Grinch with David sitting beside him, dinking around on his laptop.

"Neal's jealous of you," He explains, like they're in the middle of a continuing conversation, and not that Cook's actually been sitting in silence, watching the Grinch construct his santa suit for the last fifteen minutes.

David looks up from the screen just as his instant messenger chimes, and Cook's mouth twitches up into a little smirk as he lays his head back against the couch and extends his arm over the back of it, almost hanging around David's neck.

"You're still kind of drunk," David tells him, kind of fondly. He looks tired and worn out and still damp from his shower; Cook likes that in a boyfriend.

Shaking his head, Cook says, "Barely. I'm just saying, the whole thing is on me and him, not you. Don't let him get to you."

"You're the one who punched him in the face," David says, sounding kind of amused. Cook makes a face - that shit is all relative. "And I? Am staying out of it."

Cook frowns a little and leans deeper into the couch, sliding to rest his head right beside David's shoulder.

"You gotta teach me how to be a grown up," Cook tells him, eyes going back to the TV screen.

David laughs and closes his laptop mid-chime, setting it on the floor at his feet.

"It's kind of boring," He confides, as Cook is wrapping his arms around David's middle. "Punching someone in the eye is probably much more exciting."

This is the shit Cook wishes Neal could see, but that dude put his Archie blinders on months ago and Cook doubts they'll be coming off anytime soon.

 

.

 

Cook is one of those people who spends an entire day stringing up a single box of Christmas lights, only to watch as the first nail comes loose and each and every bulb falls from the side of the railing, popping against the cement like little holiday firecrackers. Usually the entire situation ends with a lot of swearing and throwing shit around, at which point David finds it best to just back away slowly and make sure that the front door is firmly closed behind him.

Which is a lot of the same way that Cook handles his relationships with the people he's closest to.

He's on the phone with Neal the next afternoon for a long time, long enough for David to watch back to back episodes of some reality show on TLC and still have time to make himself a sandwich after. He's on the phone with Neal long enough for the sun to go down and all of the Christmas lights on their street to switch on, each house popping up in the darkness until David looks out the window and sees an entire street lined with bright lights.

Finally, when David is toying with the idea of ordering a pizza and watching one of the pay per view movies on Cook's digital cable, there's a creak in the hallway and Cook comes out, looking bleary eyed and wound down.

"Merry Christmas," He finally sighs, falling into the couch cushion beside where David is sitting. He closes his eyes and leans his head back against the cushion, face angled up into the ceiling.

David looks at him for a long while before leaning to the side and curling into the long stretch of torso between Cook's arm and hip.

 

.

 

My nw Years resolution is to stop being a dick, I decided, Neal texts him the next day, when he's in line at Best Buy with about half his bank account's worth of purchases.

He fights down his smile all the way out to the parking lot, where the sun is shining and nobody is slipping on black ice.

 

.

 

"What'd you wish for this year, Cook," David asks him, when they're laying on the floor underneath the janky Christmas tree set up in the living room.

Cook looks up into the branches of the tree, the white lights blinking slowly, shining off of the fake glass ornaments, and smiles a slow grin that stretches across his face.

"Guess," He says, turning his head to the side. The back of his skull clunks against the wood floor and David makes a face, laughing a little as he reaches out and rests his hand against the side of Cook's neck.

David's face splits into a wide smile as he studies Cook studying him, eyelashes flickering as he glances back and forth over David's face.

"I never get the right answer," David tells him, feeling the pulse in Cook's neck beat against his fingers.

Cook laughs and rolls his head back to look up into the tree, lights shining off of his eyes as he says, "You might this time. Try me."

"Alright, um," He pauses and watches the side of Cook's face silently, ghost of a smile still flickering across his mouth. "It includes me."

Cook rolls his eyes and looks to the side, saying, "Duh."

"Okay," David's eyes flicker back to look up into the tree, watching the cheap ornaments hanging off of each branch. He wrinkles his nose a little and turns his head back to look at Cook and ask, "Does it include me having to deal with you sweating everywhere?"

Cook's laughing then, loud and surprised, as he rolls over onto his side and just about knocks the tree over, saying, "You little shit," as he rests on one elbow and kisses David hard on the mouth.

 

.

 

merry christmas baby, you sure do treat me nice  
a merry christmas honey, everything here is beautiful.


End file.
